


Woke Up In The Safehouse Singing

by ElectricLoveseat



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, archivists in cars being fond, i am HOLDING MY FACE IN DISTRAUGHT, post 159, pretty much jon recapping the past 4 seasons with added oh damn im in love with martin, safehouse honeymoon, they are EMBARASSING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricLoveseat/pseuds/ElectricLoveseat
Summary: They’ve dodged entities. Martin once was locked in his house for 13 days and then stuck in the Institute for much longer. Jon’s been kidnapped these past few years more times than he's been hugged. Friends, or what used to be friends, have died in front of them or behind their backs. Things much more powerful than them have claimed them without permission, and have mangled their feet until they could barely stand. And despite it all, Jon is driving, and Martin is sleeping, and they’re both here somehow.And through all the battles they’ve been forced into, Jon can not gather the strength to wake Martin up..i wrote this in a frantic state at midnight after finishing season 4, forgot about it, didnt proofread, and now it's a month later. bone apple teeth (haha anatomy class anyone? honestly just kill me its fine)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 9
Kudos: 161





	Woke Up In The Safehouse Singing

It’s a funny thing, isn’t it?

Only a few hours ago, Jon dove into what was pretty much one of the forms of hell this world has to offer. He wandered around for what was an intangible amount of time. He killed, wait no, destroyed Peter Lucas. And all of it was for a chance to have Martin back with him. To be alone with Martin, ironic enough. He was alone with Martin in the loneliest place in the world. Honestly, it was jarring for the both of them once they made it out of the empty endless beaches. Once he saw how often Martin would flinch at the touch of the crowded streets and public transport of London, Jon didn’t hesitate in his decision to rent a car instead of take a train to Scotland.

Though Martin had shriveled at every touch of a stranger since leaving the Lonely, he hasn’t let go of Jon’s hand. Even in this moment, after being on the road for 8 hours, their hands are still clasped tight in the space between their seats. Martin’s grip loosened a few hours before, when his temple sunk to the window and soft snores left his nose, but Jon made sure to squeeze tighter to make up for the loss. 

And now he’s alone with Martin. And he can’t fathom the idea of waking him up so they could talk about what happened. What’s been happening between them. It’s something he’s been desperate to know since he woke from his coma. Maybe even longer.

They’ve dodged entities. Martin once was locked in his house for 13 days and then stuck in the Institute for much longer. Jon’s been kidnapped these past few years more times than he's been hugged. Friends, or what used to be friends, have died in front of them or behind their backs. Things much more powerful than them have claimed them without permission, and have mangled their feet until they could barely stand. And despite it all, Jon is driving, and Martin is sleeping, and they’re both here somehow. 

And through all the battles they’ve been forced into, Jon can not gather the strength to wake Martin up.

He’s wanted so desperately to have a long conversation with Martin for months now. (Technically, over a year. He forgets fairly often that he lost six months of his life.) He’s spent so long keeping a part of his mind attached to Martin. To Know when he was close enough in range for Jon to ‘just so happen to stumble into you Martin’ or ‘fine you got me, I just needed to see you’ or ‘I’m sorry, right, you have to go. I get it’ (he doesn’t get it, he just doesn’t want to upset him). And now that Martin’s an arms reach away, Jon can’t stand the idea of waking him up from what is probably the first taste of peace he’s had since-

Well, he doesn’t know. Not really. He could if he wanted, but he doesn’t. Martin’s always had things going on outside of Jon’s perspective. He wants to punch his past self for being so stubbornly rude to Martin for what? Being a little clumsy? Being kind? Seeming naive? He had said it was a bloody relief to have Martin out of the office while Martin was trapped in his house from deadly worms. He called Martin a useless ass while Martin had been singlehandedly keeping himself and his mother afloat his whole life. Jon cannot remember a single time he’s told Martin thank you for anything he’s done, and he’s not sure if Martin’s ever heard the words before by someone he cares about. He wants more than anything to wake him up right now and end every sentence he ever tells him with “thank you” for the rest of their lives.

Well, now there’s a thought. There’s no feeling of a Freudian slip when it passes his mind. It’s only shock that he’s so outright with it. It’s a feeling he’s been feeling a lot since he tuned in and noticed his feelings for Martin. It’s silly really, being the Archivist, while also being pretty daft if he’s honest. He watches. He observes. He notices. That doesn’t mean he understands what he’s looking at. Maybe it’s a part of it. Maybe, because he’s always so occupied with too much information, he doesn’t have the time to focus on something he already knows. 

He caught onto how Martin fumbled his words after Jon gave him his cot. There was quite a lot for him to see when Martin burst into tears during his interview after the Prentiss attack. The way Martin would slyly take care of him even through his paranoia phase and would defend him for doing such ridiculous things was definitely not influenced by common sense. And yet, it wasn’t until he listened to the tape where Basira and Melanie gossiped about the mere possibility of Martin having feelings for Jon that it didn’t actually click.

Jon then spent a lot of time reevaluating every interaction Martin has had with or about him. The memories of the tapes from before rushing through his head as though he were listening to them proper. And with it, Jon tacked onto his own feelings as well. In a moment, Jon’s life went from ‘Martin’s very clingy to me, for some reason he cares for me and for some reason I don’t mind, in fact I am both afraid out of my mind and longing for him to continue,’ to ‘Oh. Martin has a crush on me. And I feel something because of it. I feel a lot of things because of it. And it all makes sense.’ And this revelation came right before the Unknowing, so Jon didn’t pull him aside to talk about it. It didn’t seem like the most important thing going on at the time, but Jon didn’t know he’d be out of commission for so long afterwards, and then everything would change. He wishes he’d done anything. He was waiting for his thoughts to be in order for better clarity, but at least a ‘Martin, I know how you feel about me. I feel something back. Mostly positive, partly fear, but that usually comes with these feelings, right? Especially considering our situation.’ Maybe if Martin knew, he wouldn’t have felt so lonely.

Or maybe it would’ve made things worse for him.

But now is different. Now, they’re both alive. Or at least, they both exist. They’re both tangible to each other. It’s much more than they’ve had for so long. Jon can say it. Jon can tell him, and he’d hear it. All he has to do is reach over and wake him up but he can’t. Instead, he tightens his grip on the wheel, tightens his grip on the Martin, and spends the rest of the drive festering in his own head.

-

Jon wakes up alone. He’s never felt more fear in his life. Yes, really.

Last night, Martin jerked awake once Jon parked in front of the safehouse. Perfect timing. He shook his head, rubbing at the condensation left on his brow, and turned to look at Jon.

“Alright?” He asked, concern in his voice. Jon’s throat shriveled up somewhere inside of him. He thought he could handle this, but Awake Martin is much more of something than Asleep Martin. The brake lights strike red on Martin’s skin, and he’s moving much more than the slow rise and fall of his chest. An interaction is much more than words hitting eardrums. Martin’s statement is simple, but the journey on his face is a detailed conversation. Body language is a monologue that doesn’t stop until you stop moving forever. Everything that is Martin has been shut off until that moment he Saw him in the Lonely and dove into his arms. It was the first time Martin actually Spoke to Jon in a long time, and that was just a taste. So Jon only nodded, shut off the car, and let go of Martin for the minimum amount of time it took for them to get from their seats to the walkway to the front door.

Once they were inside the house, they dropped their jackets and shoes and would’ve dropped themselves if not for the open door of a room with a bed in their vision. Was it just pure exhaustion, or perhaps a side effect of the Lonely? Jon did not have the energy to Know nor care for it. In fact, they didn’t even have the energy to let go of each other’s hands or get under the covers, settling instead to plop onto the bed sideways and let the sandman take them wherever he pleases.

And now Jon’s awake to an empty bed.

It takes a few moments of agony for Jon to live through the fear of Martin disappearing while he slept. Whether he was sucked back into the Lonely or just got up on willing legs and left. Then Jon wriggles out of the bed and onto his feet, nearly tripping over his luggage that he knows for a fact he didn’t bring in. It’s then that he pauses to take a look at his surroundings. His other bags are strewn on the floor unopened. He sees one of Martin’s bags emptied and hanging off the doorknob and sighs in relief. Looking around, he notices more of Martin around the room. The dresser has 4 large drawers, and the top 2 has knit fabric haphazardly sticking out of the top. There’s a stack of books and journals on the small desk by the window. A case and cleaning fabric for glasses is on one of the end tables, along with loose change strewn about. On the bed where he was laying before is a quilt that Jon doubts fit into any of Martin’s bags, rather than a storage room in the house, but is still from Martin nonetheless. Jon looks at his watch to find that it’s noon. Of course Martin would’ve woken up before him, he slept the entire ride over. In fact, Jon’s not sure if Martin collapsed on the bed with him out of exhaustion as well, or if it was because of the hand Jon refused to let go of.

Jon now feels the emptiness of his hand. Before yesterday, it just felt like his hand, but now it feels incomplete. He couldn’t feel his empty hand as something wrong until he felt it in Martins, felt how right it was. Jon is very lucky that he’s left handed and Jude Perry is not, but yesterday his dominant hand felt as scorched as his right. And now it feels like a phantom limb. So he uses his too cold hand to turn the too cold doorknob and steps into the too hot kitchen with the stoves on.

He stands in the doorway watching the back of Martin scurry along the counters and stove. There’s something in the pans, some sort of stir fry. There’s also a kettle, and Martin has two mugs in front of him. He moves as if in a trance, and Jon wants nothing more than to snap him out of it. Arms wrapped around his torso, a kiss to the cheek, hell, even a romantic dip if only Jon had the upper body strength and trust in not knocking over any pans. Anything to get Martin to click out of this routine that looks like he’s peering into Martin’s life when he gets home alone after a day at the Institute. Something to let Martin know that he’s Here. He’s with Jon. He’s out of that rut. 

Or maybe this is it now. Martin can continue living his usual life, now that he’s out of Peter’s grasp. Now that they’re out of Elias’ eye (probably not, but he's gonna allow himself to hope for a moment). They should just move on to their regular lives again, or however regular you could consider it. 

Jon tries to think of his life without the institute, only to find that there’s nothing. For the past 4 years, pretty much all of his actions have been directly connected to the institute. Even before moving to the archives, the piece of his life that was supposed to be his own was only used to bring him to the next day so he could get to work. The first meal of the day being a sandwich in the evening and reading bland books just so he could use the feeling of getting absorbed in a piece of literature to make the time go by faster followed by maybe sleeping on a good day isn’t much of a life he’d had. And what he did have were bits pieced on by others. Tim dragging him and the others to the bar after work some days, now gone. Sasha stealing his phone to add him to a groupchat with the archive staff, which hasn’t been active since the Prentiss attack. Georgie's awful game nights. Daisy's two truths and one lie game she was fond of. Things he was disgruntled at being involved in at the time, now things he regrets not appreciating properly.

But Martin is here. Martin, who would pop into his office with the excuse of tea or food or sometimes just for no reason at all. Martin, who would spend his days clinging off the back of Jon’s sleeve until he shook him off. And now, Jon’s looking at Martin’s sleeve and finding it to be a cozy place to stay. Jon’s done. He doesn’t want to figure out what to do with himself anymore. He doesn’t want to push away any more hands clinging to him in fear of losing his own balance. He wants to cling to Martin and watch Martin’s life over his shoulder. He wants to follow him along, maybe be a participant. Use his own hands to help him when there’s too many groceries to carry inside or be the one to tuck a blanket over his sleeping form. He wants to outline the shape of Martin’s life. He likes the way it looks, and doesn’t think a shape he’d make up on his own would look any better.

Martin finally looks up after taking the fire off the stove and steeping the tea. He turns to put the mugs on the kitchen island to find Jon’s eyes on him. His face splits into a tiny grin.

“Good morning Jon. Or, afternoon, rather. I was worried when you slept through breakfast, but I assumed you needed the rest-”

“Let’s get married.”

Martin’s eyes go wide and the mugs slip through his hands. Ceramic flies along the tiles, pieces of mug and the floor both cracking. Jon slaps a hand over his mouth and scurries to help pick up the pieces when Martin curses and squats, trying to hide his blush in his hair and shoulder. 

“Is there a broom left over from Daisy here? I can-”

“What?!” Martin squeaks in disbelief. Jon throws away the pieces in his hand into the garbage can under the island then slides the bits from Martin’s hands into his palm and does the same. He flushes at the touch of skin, embarrassed at his outburst.

“So what are you cooking?” Jon asks the stir fry behind him with solid eye contact. Martin sighs and grabs Jon’s shoulder, trying to egg him into turning to face him again.

“Jon, WHAT?!” Martin squeaks. Jon finally turns back to him, their faces matching shades of red. “You can’t just change the subject on this!”

“I-I mean,” Jon stammers. He takes a moment to breathe by kneeling up and wetting a towel in the sink, then wiping the floor with it. “We cracked the floor.”

“I’ll get a rug. Jon.”

“I was thinking that… maybe… well…” Jon’s finding it hard to look at Martin anywhere above his shoulders. “I mean, you are my anchor, right? I wouldn’t have gotten out of the Buried without you, and you wouldn’t have gotten out of the Lonely without me. So we’re each other’s anchors, actually. And I was thinking that.. Maybe… it would be a good idea to have a symbol of that… for if we ever get lost again. So, rings?” Jon knows he's just talking out of his ass, but Martin seems to be listening intently.

“That. That does seem smart.” He raises himself back up with a hand on the counter, then reaches down to help Jon up. He flicks chunks of ceramic off of Jon’s shirt then looks him in the eyes. “Is that... is that the only reason?”

“No.” Jon says. Considering how much he’s struggled to get to this point, the word flows easily out of his mouth. And then he’s giggling. It’s a foreign sound, one Martin’s only heard of when Jon would hit a certain point of intoxicated at Tim’s get-togethers. And the sound of it makes something fluttery rise from his throat as well. Just the thought that the first thing Jon's said to him since leaving the Lonely was that, it does something to his heart. The two of them are being hunted by so many things right now. And yet, despite the bright targets stuck to their backs, they're standing in their messy little kitchen, holding onto each other’s hands, and giggling. 

They haven’t talked it out. They haven’t exchanged I love you’s, not properly. They haven’t even agreed on what to call their relationship. But they were never the ones to communicate through statements. And when Jon cups Martin’s face in his hands, Martin knows the exact punctuation to end it with.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from mitski's cover of bleachers' lets get married which i listened to on repeat while writing :3c
> 
> im @cherrycowboy on twitter


End file.
